Europe had sympathy for Syrian refugees at that point. The number of Syrians arriving in Europe was increasing, but was still relatively small—fewer than eighty thousand in 2014—and governments recognized that they were fleeing from war, so they quickly waved them through the asylum process.
European governments had always found it more politically expedient to contain refugee populations close to the countries they had fled from, including the 3 million refugees from Syria in its neighboring countries. Funding grew to enable UNHCR and its partners to provide shelter, food, education, health care, and other services for the many desperate refugees in countries such as Egypt. But the millions of euros that came from global governments didn’t match the growing needs of a swelling and increasingly needy group of people. Once middle-class, professional Syrians were now living off handouts, and scraping for rent in substandard dwellings, and taking work from employers who exploited them. Desperate for income, many resorted to sending their young children to work instead of school, picking vegetables for as little as $4 a day or selling flowers in the city streets. Meanwhile the refugees grew restless and anxious to move to countries where it was legal for them to work and where their children could go to school.
When Syrians began to land on the shores of Italy in noticeable numbers, European politicians sought the cooperation of origin countries such as Egypt to help stop the boats. Financial incentives were offered for crackdowns on smugglers and detention and fines for refugees who attempted to leave the countries illegally. The message was clear: Stay in your own region. But for Syrians such as Doaa and Bassem, Egypt was suffocating their dreams.
After Bassem and Doaa finished their welcome-home meal, Hanaa begged them not to leave again, but later when they discussed what they should do next, Doaa told Bassem, “It is better to have a quick death in the sea than a slow death in Egypt.” Hearing this, Bassem picked up the phone and called the smuggler back.
A couple of days later, they got the call to leave again the next day. This time, they were given the address of a small flat in Alexandria where four families, who had arrived before them, had gathered to await the signal to depart. They boarded a bus that same night. Once again, the bus was packed with families, along with two smugglers who received calls every few minutes and barked orders at the driver, who would then veer off in another direction. “They don’t know what they are doing,” Doaa whispered to Bassem as she fell against him. The bus sped up and one of the smugglers announced that a police car was behind them. The driver steered the bus off the paved road and onto the dirt track of a big farm, accelerating. Women screamed and children cried as the tires hit potholes and narrowly missed palm trees. The police officers fired shots, hitting the back and sides of the bus. The next thing Doaa and Bassem felt was the impact of the bus crashing into a wall as it abruptly stopped. The police surrounded the bus, ordering the smugglers out first. They put plastic bags over their heads and tied each at the neck, then forced them to take off their clothes except for their underwear. The police tied the smugglers at the ankles and kicked and beat them, creating a show of humiliation for the stunned group of refugees observing the scene.
“You’re back, welcome back, dear visitors!” an officer said to Doaa, laughing. She recognized him as the officer who had caught them the first time. Bassem pleaded with him not to take them back to the prison and offered instead to pay him to be released. At first the officer refused, but he later returned with a preposterous offer. For $5,000 he would set them free. Bassem and Doaa realized that they were going back to prison.
First they were taken to a stadium that had been used as army barracks to spend the night, then the next day they were taken back to the same police station as before to sign for a second time documents admitting guilt for attempting to leave the country illegally. They were returning to the same prison as before.
On the second day in prison, Doaa awoke with a terrible headache and nausea. It was now August 28, the first anniversary of Doaa and Bassem’s engagement, and Doaa was in despair. How had others made it to Europe and not them? she wondered.
A sharp pain gripped her lower back and was shooting into her sides. She sat in a corner with her knees folded up into her chest. Doaa asked the guards for the doctor, but had to wait in excruciating pain for the regular rounds of the Doctors Without Borders physician, who was due to come in the next day.